


existential imagination

by Skullszeyes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Confusion, Crying, Emotional Manipulation, Final Fantasy XV - Freeform, Illusions, M/M, Mention of MT!Prompto, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Prompto wakes, not knowing what is truly real while Ardyn's voice lingers in his head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I like the idea of Prompto being an MT, even though FFXV did a really bad explanation of it, but we're fanfic writers and we all have imaginations to create whatever. :) I barely remember much detail, so I just made stuff up, I was in a hurry to save Prompto and didn't care about anything else. :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

It happened too quick, a blur, and he was never sure what was real or what was before him when everything in front of him was swept away. He choked on the tears, the screams, the pain that elicited laughters from the man who held no empathy in his cold dead heart. His binds were cut and his words were solemn, frightened of what it meant to be around his friends once more. The feeling of keeping them close and the desperation of never letting anyone take them from him.

Noctis had made quite an entrance on getting into the facility. He could hear the alarms going off, echoing off the walls, he could hear the groans of the men and woman inside the cells. He slowed his pace, fingers touching the bars, and then he was there, inside his head, speaking words of mischief.

_‘Once upon a time, you were like them, inside a cell, oh so ready. Do you remember, Prompto?’_

“Prompto.” He looked up, Ignis was watching him, brows furrowed, the others stopped and looked back.

He sucked in a breath, gaze flitting back to the cell and stepped away at the sudden appearance of the daemons. They weren’t people, not anymore. Prompto breathed hard, fingers curling into fists at his sides, his heart rattled in his chest. The pain flashed, but he bit his lower lip, pushing back the agony.

“I’m fine,” he managed to say, smiling at his friends. “Let’s go.” And they were off once more, walking down the narrow hall, with each passing cell and the people that were unlucky to become daemons. Test subjects, fatal and broken without any type of cure to turn them back.

Prompto reached for his wrist where the barcode was hidden beneath his bracelets. He was lucky, one out of all who lost their lives or became weapons for the empire. He escaped, unscathed, safe from them all, but his past came rushing back and the only one who did recognize him was…

_‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about this place. No.. you didn’t, did you? It’s there, inside your head, in your memories, so frail you once were. Safe in Lucis, safe in enemy territory. Did you think I wouldn’t have found you? Now that I have…’_

“Shut up!” Prompto yelled, shaken by what he was saying inside his head, by what he implied, the chuckle faded away as Prompto fell to his knees, hands covering his ears away from the noise, away from _him_ who caused him pain, who dragged him back to the origin of his past.

“Prompto,” Noctis called, falling to his knees in front of him, his hands shaking along with Prompto as he pulled them away from his head. “Hey, I’m here, Prompto, it’s okay.. It’s okay.”

Prompto shook his head. “I can’t stay here. I can’t stay here.. We have to leave.”

“We are,” Gladiolus said, his voice firm.

“We came for you, Prompto and we aren’t leaving without you.” Ignis smiled down at him.

“Come on, Prom,” Noctis said, taking his hands and helping Prompto to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

Prompto nodded, following after them, running down halls and turning his head every moment he saw _him_ standing before them. Smiling, waving, and disappearing. The others didn’t see him, so Prompto figured maybe it was just an illusion. Something to trick his mind into believing that he was truly there.

They ran into the security room where cameras were lined all over the place. Prompto slowed his step. Looking at each one, his breath quickened, shaking his head. He turned around, watching Noctis and Gladiolus trying to open a door, Ignis standing watch and instructing that there might be another way out.

Something was wrong, on the cameras there were broken MT’s, recently destroyed. An image of himself fading beyond a corner where someone ran, calling his name, his body grainy on the screen.

 _He_ walked before Prompto, coming out of nowhere. The world seem to thicken, a glazed feeling falling over Prompto’s mind as his hand came down onto his shoulder. _‘Now, now, Prompto, what are you thinking about? It’s not a lie, I hope you realize that.’_

Prompto twisted around, swinging his arm at Ardyn Izunia. “Get out of my head. You’re not real.”

“Prompto, we need help opening the door!” Noctis called and when Prompto turned around, they were facing him, standing ten feet away in line beside one another, bodies stiffened, backs straight and arms at their sides, lips moving without sound.

Prompto stepped back, shaking his head. “No! This has to be real, this has to be real.” He manifested his gun, his hand shaky and his finger twitched before pulling down and shooting each one in the chest. Choked sounds fell from their lips, followed by blood as they fell back all at once and disappeared before hitting the floor.

Prompto dropped the gun, a tear streaked down the side of his face.

Ardyn chuckled, leaning against one of the desks, head tilted up to look at the camera screens. _‘You’re night and shining armor is on his way.’_

Prompto turned around and looked at one of the camera’s. Ardyn was right, in some aspects, Noctis was on the monitor, fighting MT’s in narrow halls. Was he real? Where were the others?

 _‘Is he real?’_ Ardyn wondered, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at Prompto. _‘He’s fighting MT’s, Prompto. One of them could’ve been you, but look at the way he’s using the Lucii ring without even flinching, such bravado in his chaos. Are you sure he’s the hero of this story?’_

Prompto wiped away his tears. “You’re not.”

 _‘Maybe not,’_ Ardyn stood behind him, hands on his shoulders. _‘Are you the fake one, Prompto? Will he do everything in his princely power to find you, to fight for you, to know that you’re not like the other MT’s he’s taking out. Will he understand your plight, the past you desperately wanted to hide?’_

“He will,” Prompto said, his resolve shaky, yet firmly in place.

Ardyn laughed. _‘Are you sure about that? Are you sure your Prince Noctis is here for you but for that?’_ All of the screens turned into a piece of the crystal of Lucis, hidden away inside the facility.

_‘Does he know you are here? Does he truly know that you aren’t a fake? Your Prince Noctis holds a weight heavier than any god, and yet he would choose you. A test subject for experimentation and warfare.’_

Prompto shook his head, covering his ears once more. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls, followed by Ardyn’s laughter.

_‘You cannot hide inside yourself anymore, the daemons will eventually find you, like I have. Remember, Prompto, you are not one of them, you are what I created. A soldier made for war, you are one piece of my revenge.’_

Ardyn knelt down before him, smiling. ‘ _Tell me, Prompto, will you reveal yourself to your prince, will he open his arms to you, will he gladly let you return to his beloved kingdom?’_

Prompto shuddered at the implication of not returning to Insomnia, to the place where he grew up, where he became different, something that the empire didn’t breed for experimentation. That was the place where he felt more at home, not inside a cell nor with the code imprinted on his skin.

“I’m not what _you_ created,” Prompto glared into Ardyn’s eyes, “I’m what I created in the years of escaping this terrible place. I will go home, to Insomnia, to _my_ prince.”

Ardyn’s smile faded from his face, and the look that replaced his charming facade was now a twisted version. He reached for Prompto’s arms, fingers digging into his biceps as he leaned close. _‘You think that your prince will succeed, such a disastrous thought, your prince is chasing an illusion, a fake in the empty halls. Once he finds you, once he knows the truth, Prompto, he won’t hesitate to kill you. Niflheim has been his enemy since he was a child.’_

Before Prompto could try and pull away from Ardyn’s grasp. Ardyn had raised a veil around Prompto’s mind and sunk him into illusion after illusion and by the time Noctis had made it to the second floor of the facility, barely close to where Prompto lay on the floor, screaming in agony, body spasming, tears pooling down his face.

“Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head,” he screamed and screamed until Ardyn reached down and grasped his arm, dragging him off toward the cells, a laugh leaving his lips at what the prince will find.

His wretched little friend in pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a big Prompto x Ardyn shipper, even when Ardyn was speaking on the intercom during that whole sequence of events. I was real emotionally exhausted during that time, mostly in shock after what happened to Prompto on the train. So I gave no shit for Ardyn and only cared about saving Prompto. But Ardyn is a great antagonist and I read some Prompto x Ardyn stories to get a hang of writing him since some people do it better than me. :D  
> I will possibly write more of these two since I enjoy writing about psychological torture and stuff like that. (:  
> I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
